VOL. XIX.-2 Above the cries of greed and gain, The curbstone war, the auction's hammer; It led, from all this strife for millions, And as it stilled the multitude, And yet more joyous rose, and shriller, The reeds give out that strain impassioned. "T was Pan himself had wandered here The prelude of some pastoral ditty! From haunts of shepherd, nymph, and satyr, And Syracusan times, to these Far shores and twenty centuries later. A ragged cap was on his head; But - hidden thus there was no doubting That, all with crispy locks o'erspread, His gnarlèd horns were somewhere sprouting; His club-feet, cased in rusty shoes, Were crossed, as on some frieze you see them, And trousers, patched of divers hues, Concealed his crooked shanks beneath them. He filled the quivering reeds with sound, The nymphs and herdsmen ran to hear him, The bulls and bears together drew From Jauncey Court and New Street Alley, As erst, if pastorals be true, Came beasts from every wooded valley; The random passers stayed to list, — A one-eyed Cyclops halted long In tatered cloak of army pattern; And Galatea joined the throng, · A blowsy, apple-vending slattern; While old Silenus staggered out From some new-fangled lunch-house handy, And bade the piper, with a shout, To strike up Yankee Doodle Dandy! A newsboy and a peanut girl Like little fauns began to caper: His hair was all in tangled curl, Her tawny legs were bare and taper; And gave its pence and crowded nigher, O heart of Nature, beating still With throbs her vernal passion taught her, Even here, as on the vine-clad hill, Or by the Arethusan water! New forms may fold the speech, new lands But Music waves eternal wands, Enchantress of the souls of mortals! A man in blue, with legal baton, And scoffed the vagrant demigod, And pushed him from the step I sat on. Doubting I mused upon the cry, "Great Pan is dead!" and all the people Went on their ways; and clear and high The quarter sounded from the steeple. SIR RICHARD STEELE. STEELE, SIR RICHARD, a British essayist and dramatist; born at Dublin in March, 1672; died near Caermarthen, Wales, September 1, 1729. He was educated at Charterhouse School, London. He afterward entered the University of Oxford, but left without taking a degree, and enlisted in the Horse Guards, where he rose to the rank of captain. In 1701 he put forth "The Christian Hero," a religious treatise, and within a few years produced several fairly successful comedies, the earliest being "The Funeral, or Grief à la Mode" (1702), the last, and best, being "The Conscious Lovers" (1722). In 1709 Steele started "The Tatler," a tri-weekly periodical devoted to town gossip, domestic and foreign news, and essays upon social topics. After two years the paper was discontinued, and "The Spectator" established. Steele later set up "The Guardian," and subsequently "The Englishman." The date of these publications falls within the years 1711 and 1714. ON COFFEE-HOUSES; SUCCESSION OF VISITORS; CHARACTER OF EUBULUS. (From "The Spectator.") It is very natural for a man who is not turned for mirthful meetings of men, or assemblies of the fair sex, to delight in that sort of conversation which we find in coffee-houses. Here a man of my temper is in his element; for if he cannot talk, he can still be more agreeable to his company, as well as pleased in himself, in being only a hearer. It is a secret known but to few, yet of no small use in the conduct of life, that when you fall into a man's conversation, the first thing you should consider is whether he has a great inclination to hear you, or that you should hear him. The latter is the more general desire; and I know very able flatterers that never speak a word in praise of the persons from whom they obtain daily favors, but still practise a skilful attention to whatever is uttered by those with whom they converse. We are very curious to observe the behavior of great men and their clients: but the same passions and interests move men in lower spheres; and I (that have nothing else to do but make observations) see in every parish, street, lane, and alley of this populous city, a little potentate that has his court, and his flatterers, who lay snares for his affection and favor by the same arts that are practised upon men in higher stations. In the place I most usually frequent, men differ rather in the time of day in which they make a figure, than in any real greatness above one another. I, who am at the coffee-house at six in the morning, know that my friend Beaver the haberdasher has a levee of more undissembled friends and admirers than most of the courtiers or generals of Great Britain. Every man about him has perhaps a newspaper in his hand; but none can pretend to guess what step will be taken in any one court of Europe, till Mr. Beaver has thrown down his pipe and declares what measures the allies must enter into upon this new posture of affairs. Our coffee-house is near one of the Inns of Court, and Beaver has the audience and admiration of his neighbors from six till within a quarter of eight; at which time he is interrupted by the students of the house, some of whom are ready dressed for Westminster at eight in a morning, with faces as busy as if they were retained in every cause there; and others come in their night-gowns to saunter away their time, as if they never designed to go thither. I do not know that I meet in any of my walks objects which move both my spleen and laughter so effectually as those young fellows at the Grecian, Squire's, Serle's, and all other coffee-houses adjacent to the law, who rise early for no other purpose but to publish their laziness. One would think these young virtuosos take a gay cap and slippers, with a scarf and party-colored gown, to be ensigns of dignity; for the vain things approach each other with an air which shows they regard one another for their vestments. I have observed that the superiority among these proceeds from an opinion of gallantry and fashion. gentleman in the strawberry sash, who presides so much over the rest, has, it seems, subscribed to every opera this last winter, and is supposed to receive favors from one of the actresses. The When the day grows too busy for these gentlemen to enjoy any longer the pleasures of their dishabille with any manner of confidence, they give place to men who have business or |
